Humanity's Final Prototype
by mro123321
Summary: Blackwatch is pragmatic, not paranoid. Telling soldiers to shoot on sight isn't always the standing order. Alex is going to wish things were that simple.
1. Watcher

(A/N: Not certain if I really need to say this, but I don't own any copyrights to anything; at least, not today.)

* * *

The room was clean. So immaculate that even one speck of dust on the floor would have seemed out of place. The walls and floors were segregated into tiles with black lines running between them. The door was the same immaculate white, with a window slot at the top for observation. There was one camera in each corner, each covered by sleek black domes. Perpendicular to the wall at the opposite end of the room from the door lay a bed. The bed was made of a reflective silver metal, and didn't seem to have much in the way of padding for comfort. On top of the bed was a man. He wore a white button-up shirt under a gray sweatshirt, which was in turn under a black leather jacket with a red tribal sign on the back. If one were to walk up to the bed, they would see that he had multiple bullet wounds on his chest, but the flesh beneath the wounds wasn't quite right. Not torn or ripped like a bullet wound would be, but the wounds were almost _glossy_.

As he laid there, his body began to inhale. His chest slowly rose as his eyes blinked open to see the sheer whiteness of the room. His headache grew worse as he attempted to change his position to lay on his side, but he lost his sense of balance and tumbled onto the floor.

He took in the silence of the room and tried, _tried_ , to remember how he got there, but no matter how hard he tried to think he couldn't remember anything about himself. He shook his head and stood up to open the door, only to see that there was no handle. He may not remember his own name, but he knew that cameras in this type of room meant he was under observation, and he was going to make his displeasure known.

"Hey! What's going on here, you can't keep me locked in here!"

* * *

Dr. Raymond Mcmullen liked being in control. It was something that he loved just as much or even more than knowledge and science.

Raymond Mcmullen couldn't tell if he was in control.

Ever since Randall and his damnedable Blackwatch contracted them for Project Blacklight, Gentek had been put under an unprecedented level of scrutiny and oversight. Randall was so _obsessed_ with the project that he inserted one of his little tin men, 'Specialist' Cross, as oversight of the project.

Not that that hadn't worked out, but the point still stood.

Of course, they were allowed to work on Project Blacklight, so maybe it was worth all the small annoyances.

Mcmullen had always had a unique perspective on Alex Mercer. Mcmullen saw Dr. Mercer's intelligence, his scheming nature, and his narcissism. Mcmullen saw something impressive in Alex Mercer. Mcmullen was smart; he wouldn't ever _trust_ Alex Mercer, but he had to privately acknowledge that he found the young man intriguing, a younger version of himself.

That's how Raymond Mcmullen knew that Alex needed to die.

Mcmullen knew that terminating the scientists was necessary, but now he found himself wishing that they slated Mercer as the first, not the eighth. At least Mcmullen had the foresight to include Cross on only Mercer's assassination. The boy was too paranoid for his own good; he took the sample and ran, and they still hadn't found his laptop.

And now, now he was a runner, a _male_ runner.

Raymond watched it inhale and open its eyes, and thought about how Alex always seemed to know what was best for the virus's evolution; even now, it seemed. It tried to stand up, and for a moment Raymond held his hand over the purge command button. The button wasn't necessary, the runner fell on the floor and didn't try to stand up. Raymond made sure his notes on its behavior were impeccable.

It spent several hours closing its eyes while on the ground, just like MOTHER, simply in a different position. The chest elevated and depressed, and every now and then a finger would twitch, but that was the extent of things for some time. Mcmullen was glad he brought his paperwork and research files into the observation room.

And then Mcmullen was brought out of his mountain of paperwork when it moved again. He briefly wondered if it had more in common with PARIAH than MOTHER, but he wasn't yet at a juncture where he could tell.

It stood up and moved for the door, but it stopped when it noticed that there wasn't a doorknob. It looked around the room in a startlingly _human_ way, and looked straight into one of the cameras.

"Hey! What's going on here, you can't keep me locked in here!"

Mcmullen nearly had a heart attack right then and there.

* * *

Specialist Robert Cross had to deal with a lot of bullshit. It came with the territory, really; he did work for the government. Cross knew that he wasn't told everything, but he still tried to keep faith with the system. It may have a darker side, but it was America, it was his home, and he knew that it was worth saving.

Robert thought about the operation he had just completed as he ate in the Gentek cafeteria. They were serving fucking _lobster_ today. Sometimes Cross thought that rich people bought expensive things just so they could brag about it at their 'charity' events.

Cross truly hated the having to kill Mercer. He could at least take comfort in the fact that Mercer was an obvious sociopath. Cross has had to do worse things than kill a rouge scientist with a damaged sample. Cross still couldn't understand how Mcmullen's efforts to cure Redlight had made the disease _worse_.

It was a miracle Cross noticed what he did, though. They were going to take Mercer to a Gentek morgue for disposal, but as they were about to move Mercer into the examination room, Cross saw that Mercer's eyes were _reflective_. Cross knew that runners typically received several microevolutions to go along with their title, and he knew that human's eyes were _not_ supposed to be that reflective. He made a quick judgment call, and had Mercer moved into containment instead.

The eggheads got so excited that Cross was surprised they didn't drool. Those were the hardest kind of people to deal with. The ones you knew were evil on the inside, but worked with you anyway. The kind of people that always seemed to surround him.

Cross's pager beeped, and he left immediately to see what Mcmullen needed him to 'consult' on.


	2. Caution

Humanity's Final Prototype

* * *

(A/N: Still don't own)

 **(** **Read this part** **. There is a phone call in this chapter, and if you do not know the related grammar it may become confusing. The format for multi-paragraph speech is:**

" **[Paragraph 1]…**

" **[Parapgraph 2]….**

" **[** **Paragraph 3/Final paragraph]…..** **"**

 **The quotations are important, watch them. Paragraphs that are not final only have quotation marks at the beginning, not the end. If you already knew this, I am sorry for wasting your time, but those without knowledge of this grammar rule may feel lost. If there are enough protestations I may delete this segment.**

* * *

Raymond and Robert sat side by side at Gentek's conference room. Cross watched as the interns set up the teleconference equipment while Mcmullen looked over yet more authorization paperwork.

 _Can't any of these incompetents make any decisions for themselves?_

Mcmullen enjoyed power, but at times like these, he also appreciated initiative.

The interns had finished wiring the equipment and left the room at Mcmullen's gesture. Cross input the designated conference frequency and password, and saw that the other six members were already present, each with their own screen.

In the top left screen sat a bald man in a black special operations outfit. Cross had heard of the man from the few marine buddies that still knew people in or were in the corp. Taggart was a both a sadist and overly territorial, but he still managed to get promoted for his other 'virtues'. Beyond his personality characteristics, Taggart had one of the highest rates of operational success in both covert and loud operations. His men had one of the USMC's highest mortality rates, too, but nobody ever really seemed to think it was worth addressing.

The top right screen was a middle aged man with brown hair and glasses. He wore a black jacket over a white shirt with black pants with dark leather shoes. Mcmullen had frequently found himself requiring the man's services. Director Matthew Bennett of the NSA often served as the military's… liaison to the people of the nation. While Blackwatch assassinated any reporters who got too close, the NSA recorded _who_ was getting too close.

The bottom left displayed a, for the room, young man in a casual shirt. His name was Director Dr. Jacob Farragut of the CDC. There was a significant amount of debate at one time whether Farragut would be permitted into the conspiracy. It was eventually decided eight years ago that he would be permitted to join on a two year long probation period where he would be on heightened surveillance. When the others were satisfied, the surveillance level was lowered to that of the other members'. Director Farragut often attempted to be the voice of reason along with the bottom center participant and occasionally Taggart, but he was seldom listened to.

The bottom center held the most superficially powerful woman in the United States. Madame President Allison Lopez was the elected leader of the United States. She didn't have any _real_ control over any of the proceedings, but the conspiracy occasionally included a president they felt understood the goals of their respective operations. President Lopez attempted to try to direct the paths of research down less risky paths, but she was almost universally vetoed by the other members, and so often remained silent, resigned that no one would pay attention anyway.

The bottom right displayed CEO Paige Landgraff. She had shoulder-length blond hair, and was very obviously wearing excessive makeup. Her corporation, Common Place, was one of the richest businesses on market. A leading competitor of Amazon, Common Place had by all counts surpassed its predecessor. Ms. Landgraff had been offered a place on the board simply by virtue of her personal fortune. Paige funded most of the operations that Gentek's significant pharmaceutical profits could not. Ms. Landgraff was a very personable woman, and Cross always felt she was almost too naïve to be a member of the conspiracy.

The top center screen held The Old Man himself, General Randall. He was not the kind of man that needed an introduction, but if Cross had to explain the Old Man to a new private, he would say that Randall was ruthless, angry, and _persistent_. Randall never stopped, never rested until he finished what he set out to do. He wasn't always smart about it, but he did whatever worked until something gave, and that is why he was The Old Man in charge. Not Mcmullen's intelligence, not Landgraff's fortune, not Bennett's network, but Randall's persistence was what kept everyone in line.

Mcmullen cleared his throat "Associates, I have scheduled this meeting in regards to a resource allocation review about Codename: PROMETHEUS. Previously, and as seen in the reports I sent you, we believed that PROMETHEUS was little more than an anomaly; something worth studying and an elevated level of attention, but events in the last several hours have forced us to reconsider our position." He looked to Cross, "Specialist, would you brief the occupants about your experience?"

"At 0500 hours, Dr. Mercer, Alexander J. fled Gentek facilities with a sample of DX 1118-C, after leaving his laptop at an as of yet unknown loc-"

CDC Director Farragut raised his voice, "Specialist Cross, are you trying to say that we are unaware of the location of a laptop that could very well contain the research and makeup of the deadliest disease on record?"

Cross kept his eyes forward and his voice flat, "That is correct sir, but-"

NSA Director Bennett adjusted his glasses, "That will not be a major concern. I will authorize a small team of individuals to find this laptop. Knowing the model of the laptop would be helpful, but even if you don't have that information on record my men will find the location along with any potential possessors of the laptop within the week. Please continue, Specialist."

"Yes sir. After cornering the target in Penn Station, New York, Mercer became volatile. He threatened unleash the virus on New York. My Wisemen and I were wearing combat hazmat suits, and we determined that eliminating Mercer in a location that we were aware of was preferable to permitting him to escape and unleash the contagion in a location that we are unprepared to begin a confrontation in.

"After the termination, we contacted a cleanup crew and brought the bodies of everyone in Penn station at the time of the release into our temporary biohazard containment vehicle. While en route, I observed that Mercer was symptomatic of the DX 1118 strain, and I determined that he-"

Colonel Taggart squinted with an angry grimace, " _It_ , Specialist, _it_. Are we clear?"

"… Yes sir, of course sir. Continuing, I determined that _it_ should be transported into containment instead of examination, and we completed the operation once PROMETHEUS was safely inside the containment room. That's all I have to report."

Mcmullen nodded his head, "Thank you, Specialist Cross; I believe that is all that we needed you for. You may return to your duties."

Cross almost imperceptibly leaned forward, "Sir, I am over watching security in this facility; it's important that I am aware-"

Randall's voice cut into the Specialist's sentence, " _Dismissed_."

Cross faced the teleconference screen, "Yes sir."

Colonel Taggart waited until Cross was no longer within the room, "He really doesn't know his place, does he?"

CEO Landgraff frowned slightly, "He serves his purpose. There is no reason to punish him a disproportionate amount simply to establish authority. Cross is the kind of man that will not push us if we do not push him. Frankly, there are more important things to discuss."

Mcmullen moved several of the papers to become more organized, "Quite right Ms. Landgraff. While we were aware that subject PROMETHEUS was unique, we did not realize until several hours ago how extensive this was. While under observation an hour and a half ago… it _spoke_."

Several voices rose at once. Director Farragut was ranting about the impossibilities based on the virus's known properties, Director Bennett asked for confirmation several times, Taggart was going on about threat level implications, and the President sat wide-eyed. Only General Randall and CEO Landgraff remained calm, watching the others scream about theories without really answering anyone else.

Finally, Randall hit his hand against his table, and was greeted by looks from the other conferencers " _Silence_. Mcmullen, finish your report."

"Of course. Now, PROMETHEUS has displayed a level of intelligence that has never before been seen in an infected. He is both rational and sane; relatively speaking of course. He shows traits that could become extremely useful in the D-Code Project. Its escape attempts have also shown incredible strength, not quite enough strength to escape, but it is all the same a very significant figure.

"My personal recommendation to the board is that we keep the subject under containment, all while analyzing as many of its traits as possible."

CEO Landgraff twirled the pen in her hand, "The runners have become more agitated and numerous in the past decade than ever before on record. If the subject is as intelligent as you say, are we certain that it cannot become an active asset?"

Taggart stood out of his chair, "Are you fucking insane?! We have a fucking infected that can _think_. We need to burn the runner until it's _ash_ , and then scrub the room with bleach and uranium!"

CDC Director Farragut raised his chin, "I'm going to have to agree with the Colonel. There's no way we can afford to let it out of containment. Not even the D-Code Project is worth the risk."

NSA Director Bennett waved his hand, "Now let's not be hasty. Who says we have to purge or weaponized it today? We have all the time in the world. We should keep it in containment and under analysis until we have more solid information."

Taggart rolled his knuckles along the table, "You will regret allowing this creature to live."

Mcmullen rolled his eyes, "I really don't think we will, Colonel. While caution is vital, so is progress. If we can analyze it or weaponize it, our research will jump forward decades. It's worth the risk."

Randall raised his hand to motion for silence, "This is too important of an opportunity to allow through our grasp. I'd call it to a vote, but we all know each other's positions. We will keep the subject under containment for an indefinite amount of time, and determine any necessary actions at our regular meetings. Does anyone have anything to add?" A round of shaking heads and negatives, "Good. Mcmullen, get on that analysis. Bennett, find that laptop. Meeting adjourned."

* * *

Dana Mercer drove her car towards the mainland on one of Manhattan's many bridges. Her car was moving at a tranquil pace, neither going faster nor slower than the other cars.

Dana Mercer was freaking out.

Her brother hadn't been warm in years, she knew that. Still, she liked to think he would be there when it counted, and she felt that it was her duty to do the same.

Then he sent her the laptop.

It was a black laptop with few distinguishing marks, but Alex wasn't the type to put stickers on his precious electronics. There wasn't the worst or most ominous part, though. On top was a note,

" _Dana, if I don't call you by this time tomorrow, I'm probably dead. If that happens, get this laptop to someone, anyone. The security on it's pretty tight, but not unstoppable. Trust no one. Get rid of your cell phone, don't use your credit cards for_ anything _, wear sunglasses for the street cameras, and steal someone else's car from one of the ghettos so that you can get out of the city. I'm counting on you to get this out._

 _-Alex_ "

Dana could only think a couple things; one was " _What the actual fuck?!_ "

The other was that she couldn't stop wondering what Alex had gotten messed up in. Did he owe the mob money? Was he trying to whistle blow at Gentek? She didn't know, and she didn't take her time to try and hack the laptop to find out. Once she was out of the city she would start hacking into whatever her brother left behind, and maybe figure out what was going on. Dana was a reporter, after all; she would find it, and she _would_ tell everyone when she did. But first, she had to get out of the city. Dana took a calming breath, and kept on driving; she drove no faster and no slower than any other vehicle on the bridge.

* * *

The entity formerly known as Alex Mercer watched the door from a seat on his bed. He had tried to pry open the door, but stopped after a little while when he realized that it wouldn't open. He thought that he might have made some indentations in the metal frame, but figured it was more likely that his fingers fit into some existing dents. He didn't even know what his captors were planning.

 _Well, two can play at that game_

Alex smirked and rose from his seat on the metal bed frame. He tried pulled on it to gauge its weight. It wasn't too hard to pick up, and he grinned when it came off the ground. He wasn't thinking about how heavy it was; he was finally doing something.

He swung the bed frame at each corner of the room, and he really enjoyed seeing the domed cameras shatter one at a time. These bastards could keep secrets from him, but _like hell_ would he let them see everything _he_ planned.

* * *

Mcmullen spoke into the cellphone, "It really is incredible.

"Earlier it tried opening the door out of its containment cell. It didn't stop for _two days_. It didn't want food or water; it just kept trying to open the door. It stopped about three hours ago, and then it sat and stared at the wall for three hours. I don't think it has a human grasp of continuity. If we left it there for a decade, I don't think it would know anything other than that time had passed."

The speaker voiced out, "That could be useful"

"Yes; without proper perception of time, we could keep it contained for significantly longer than would be otherwise expected.

"Moving on; it has also demonstrated an abnormal strength level. While attempting to open the door, it caused indentations in the steel. When it was finally done staring at the door, it picked up its bedframe and swung the bedframe like a toy at the cameras. That bed was solid metal and weighed 200 kilograms."

The voice spoke up again, "Did he find the hidden cameras as well?"

Mcmullen paused at the voice's words, and spoke carefully, "No, of course not. They were installed by the best professionals money can buy. It couldn't tell the difference between the camera lens and the walls. To be honest, I'm a little disappointed in that."

"Give it time. Eventually, he might get there."

Mcmullen deliberated his response for a moment, "That wouldn't exactly be a good thing. We still need to control the creature."

The other replied, "You make a point. Was this all when he first came in?"

Mcmullen started to turn on his computer as he prepared to end the call, "Yes, about a week ago."

"Thank you."

"Of course… you are as invested in this as I am."

* * *

Dana drove down the road with bags under her eyes. All the time that she wasn't driving she spent in a motel trying to hack into her brother's laptop. She hadn't found much, but what she had found was just warped. There was some kind of disease that her brother was researching. It kind of sounded like rabies, except the people could still think enough to fight while it was in their system. If freaked Dana the hell out, and she decided to stop her hacking attempts and just race to find someone she could trust. She even tried to send e-mails to Edward Snowden, of all people.

She brought her conscious back to the road. The other cars were moving at a leisurely pace, and she had to too. She didn't want to imagine how pathetic it would be to be pulled over by the police and get arrested for "an outstanding warrant." Her eyes floated to the right side of the road, where she noticed that she was driving on the outskirts of a forest. It was nice to see one, there was no real wildlife in New York City.

The other cars were a good distraction as well. Yellow, red, black, blue, orange… that blue sports car looked familiar. Had… had it been following her? She made spontaneous decision and turned her right blinker on. She turned onto a network of roads leading through the forest. Dana looked back. The car kept moving closer to the turn, and… _it turned right_. Dana tried to remain calm, but in reality she almost started hyperventilating. She looked forward and saw that the next bend had a boulder on the inside. The car was about eighty feet behind her. She breathed deeply and started to make the turn. After she was out of sight, she gunned it.

Dana hadn't gone this fast in a car since she was a teenager, and now she was really feeling her sleep deprivation. She looked in the mirror and saw that the car was coming around the bend at the legal limit, but when it was in view, their car sped up with her. Now Dana was certain, these were agents. Her speedometer was at seventy miles and rising, and she hoped to God that her car could take it.

It was a long stretch, and the agents would get closer and farther every couple of seconds, but over time they were getting closer. Dana slowed down and made a hard right down a side road, watching a squirrel jump out of the road. The agents followed her as she sped back up, and she started looking around to see if there was anything she could use. Up ahead another road started to run parallel to the one she was on. There were some trees and stumps in between that road and hers, and the only way onto the parallel road in sight was over a low stump. Dana bit her lip. She had no idea if her car had clearance, but they were driving a sports car, so they certainly didn't. She couldn't keep driving like this.

Dana took a deep breath and headed toward the stump. She felt her car buckle beneath her, but after the initial bump her car kept going. Dana looked back and saw that the agents weren't so lucky. Their car hit the stump and rotated one hundred ten degrees clockwise, hitting an adjacent tree like a baseball bat. She didn't watch long enough to make sure they were okay, she just kept on driving.

Once she was out of the forest, Dana left her car and started to hitchhike to Illinois.


End file.
